


Ghost of the future

by boybandsbooks (Leledezember), Leledezember



Series: Danny & Steve [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Hawaii Five-0 Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leledezember/pseuds/boybandsbooks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leledezember/pseuds/Leledezember
Summary: You can't escape your ghosts. Steve knows this when one of his best friends dies. He had forgotten him and had gone his way of mourning, but a few years later this very friend suddenly stands before him. Or is it just a person who looks like him?Steve calls his best friend and colleague Danny for help and together they pick up the trail of the mysterious unknown man.In the process they end up in a web of lies from which there is no escape.And only when something bad happens again do the two realise that they are no longer safe.
Series: Danny & Steve [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091861
Comments: 11
Kudos: 9





	1. Sacrifice

Sacrifice (sub.; Engl.): the sacrifice, the offering up.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Dressed casually, this time in a shirt and jeans instead of a T-shirt and cargo pants, and still wearing black military boots, Steve entered the Honolulu International Airport arrivals hall and looked around searchingly for Danny. A glance at his tactical wristwatch told him clearly that he had arrived ten minutes after the plane had landed. With a slight curse on his lips, he walked among the many people looking for Danny. He and Grace were due to arrive here on the plane from Newark, which had flown once across the United States as a non-stop flight.  
He should have set himself an alarm this morning.  
Cursing, he clenched his hand into a fist. There he had promised Danny to be on time to pick him and Gracie up, and then he promptly overslept. Even skipping his morning routine had not ensured that he had arrived at the airport on time, as there had been a long traffic jam on the highway.  
Today was not under a favourable star.  
Even as his gaze wandered searchingly over the crowd in the arrivals hall to find familiar faces in the crush, he abruptly faltered. Standing by a pillar was a charming man with olive-brown skin and a gentle smile amidst the somewhat overdue three-day beard. The hair was wild, yet soft at the same time and of a dark brown, almost black colour. But it was the eyes that drew Steve's attention the most. They were of such a bright blue that they seemed like ice, which was extremely unusual for a man from his latitudes.  
"Massoud ...", Steve breathed, startled, and stumbled back.  
As he did so, he bumped into a woman who poured her coffee down her shirt and scolded him. "Can't you watch it, you oaf!" she snarled, wiping the dark coffee off her top.  
Steve turned to her and looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, didn't mean to, ma'am." But he couldn't be bothered with her any longer. He simply left her as she was and pushed his way through the arriving passengers to get to the pillar where he had seen the man.  
"Asshole!" the woman shouted angrily at him, muttering something else about selfish slob types she'd like to kick in the balls. Steve ignored the lady completely and pushed his way through the crowd with apologetic phrases.  
When he finally reached the pillar, it was deserted. There was no sign of the man he thought he recognised as Massoud. Hoping to see him, he let his gaze wander over the heads of the people, but failed miserably.  
Massoud had disappeared.  
Cursing, he slammed the flat of his hand against the concrete pillar.  
Suddenly, the mobile phone in his pocket rang and vibrated, reminding him of the reason he had come to the airport today. He quickly took it out of his pocket and saw his partner's name on the display. Immediately he picked up the call.  
"I didn't think I'd one day be able to cross your military-trained punctuality off your list of qualities," Danny greeted him slightly sourly. In the background he could hear Grace trying to reassure her father.  
"Hello Danny, where are you? I think we missed each other at the airport," Steve apologised to him, concealing the fact that he had overslept and been distracted.  
The detective chuckled. "Then be glad we didn't miss your Silverado and chose the taxi. We'll wait for you at the car."  
"I'm sorry, Danny."  
"You're sorry? Steve, how long have we been not seen again?"  
Before Steve could answer the pissed off man, he heard Grace shout the reply, "For exactly 13 days, 7 hours and 11 minutes!"  
"Thank you, Gracie. And you know what I didn't want to hear from my partner after all this time?"  
Steve had absolutely no idea what Danny was getting at. "No." Supportively, though Danny couldn't see it, he shrugged.  
"An apology for him being late. I wanted him to throw his arms around my neck, hug me to him and besides a kiss, whisper in my ear that he missed me and the island was lonely without me."  
Taking a deep breath, Steve closed his eyes. There were things he loved about Danny. Like his thousand ways of making an ass of himself, constantly discussing everything. But he also liked the man's hidden, loving and tender ways. On the other hand, the first two qualities also regularly drove him up the wall - and there were plenty of them in Hawaii. Now the commander had to pull himself together more and more not to give a snotty answer, which Danny had intended.  
Because Danny also knew him quite well. As much as he was a tough guy in the field and at work, he was incredibly sensitive and the least Steve could handle was someone making a demand on him so openly. Not wanting to upset Danny that he would never kiss him in public, he bit his tongue and refrained from commenting.  
"Neanderthal animal, it was a hard, long flight. Over 11 hours in a stuffy, cramped plane. Grace and I are both overtired and have the worst jet lag on earth. Unfortunately, your car doesn't yet have the feature where I can drive it with my fat finger. Would you have the goodness to drive your friend and his adorable daughter home?"  
"I'm on my way, give me a minute or two and I'll be with you."  
"Thank you."  
Before the detective could hang up, Steve addressed him again. "And Danny?"  
"Yeah?"  
"I love you."

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Gently, Steve gave little Grace a kiss on the forehead, even though she was long gone from being the sweet little girl Steve had known her to be. Grace was twelve years old by now and she had come to realise that her father was not exactly the navel and god of the world, but she still loved Danno and was more than happy that he had finally found the love of his life.  
"Sleep well, little one."  
Grace wrapped her arms around her second dad and Uncle Steve's neck and smiled lovingly at him. "Danno loves you."  
"I know he does. Now go to sleep, Gracie."  
He got up and turned out the light before joining Danny back in the living room. The blonde detective rested his head on the back of the sofa and looked up the stairs at Steve as he returned from their shared daughter. "So, is she asleep?"  
"Yes, it's been a long day for her," the Commander answered him and came down the stairs. He sat down on the couch and rested his head against his friend's chest. Although anger still bubbled in his belly about her pickup that morning, he gently tickled Steve through his brown hair. He loved this mysterious, silent man. Very often Steve drove him to the edge of his sanity, but when he needed help, he was always there for him. He was a rock of strength.  
From the beginning he had wanted to get behind that icy shell. To uncover the person hiding behind that hard shell. Time and again Danny had tried to draw the man out with his taunts and he had been more than surprised that he had not fired him long ago. But then he had realised that they had both long since fallen in love with each other.  
Danny gave him a kiss on the temples and closed his eyes, his fingers still destroying Steve's elegant pillow hairdo. "You were just late?" asked Danny in a soft, low voice.  
Steve had long since closed his eyes and was enjoying the caresses he had really missed the last few days. It had sounded so easy at first. Fourteen days in Newark, with his family. Just him and Gracie. Steve held down the fort at headquarters. He didn't want anyone to know they were a couple. Although Chin and Kono knew. But the bystanders didn't. And that was the way it was to stay. That had been Steve's condition. Danny had accepted it completely.  
But with every day that Danny was already away from the island, Steve felt lonely. The evenings had been long and without his second piece of the puzzle that had completed his life in such an unexpected way.  
It had been a long time since he had felt so whole. Danny had brought him back the joy and his holiday away had confirmed that getting together with the grumpy, hot-tempered, irreverent and argumentative cop had been a good decision.  
"Yeah. The day didn't go the way it was supposed to," Steve replied to him calmly, sighing with relief. Although not much had happened today, other than enjoying the day, he felt incredibly tired. "Let's go to sleep."  
"Sounds like a good idea. I'm totally exhausted ... uhaaah," Danny agreed with him with an indulgent yawn. Still, he had a feeling Steve had been lying to him. Something was bothering the SEAL that he didn't want to talk about. Something had happened that made him so thoughtful. All day he had only been half focused. Knowing Steve, and he knew him pretty well by now, he would talk about it sooner or later - he just had to probe enough.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

"Damn it, get to safety, I'll stop those idiots!" growled Steve, slamming his hand in the direction of his comrades. Billy and Freddy looked at each other unsure if Steve really meant it as Sam and Nick were already grabbing them and dragging them along. If Steve had their backs, they shouldn't throw that to the wind. "Steve can handle himself. Now come on," Nick growled. Then the SEALs disappeared among the mighty pines of the forest. In the undergrowth, a lone soldier remained, bracing himself with one knee on the forest floor. Assault rifle at the ready, he fired at the fighters coming towards him from between the trees.  
If he had bought his boys enough time for them to escape, all was well. True, no soldier was ever left behind, but in this case things were a little different. If he fell, and Steve assumed he would, the US military would come looking for him and bring his body home. His family and friends could bury him and all agreed that he had done it for the lives of his team.  
Still, Steve did not throw in the towel prematurely. He shot at his opponents and changed magazines when one was empty. When he ran out of magazine, he tossed the assault rifle aside and reached for his pistol on his right leg. He fired at his opponents, keeping them at bay. When this weapon too gave a bright, empty click, he took his combat knife out of its sheath in his boot and held it up in attack. Pure determination flashed in his eyes. Steve killed the first warriors who approached him with deft feints. Their comrades kept some distance, someone shot at Steve. He dodged the bullets, one grazing his upper arm. He ignored the pain. He punched one in the face with his fist. Then someone tackled him to the ground from behind. Cursing, he kicked him and rammed the knife up to the shaft into the chest of another. The man opened his eyes and faltered in his movement. Steve looked him in the eye and recognised the horror of death. He yanked out the knife and pushed the man off him. The warriors grabbed his shoulder and yanked him up. He plunged the knife into the eye of one. He elbowed the other in the ribs, turned him on his back and kicked his neck so that it broke. Shots hit him in the shoulder and thigh, Steve stumbled backwards from the force, slipped on a stone with his shoes and lost his footing.  
The fall into the depths awoke a terrifying tug in Steve.

Drenched in sweat and with a strangled cry on his lips, Steve roused himself from sleep. Sweat stood on his forehead and he was drenched in sweat. Only the air conditioning hummed quietly, cooling the room to a comfortable twenty degrees. The weather conditions in Hawaii made it impossible to sleep without air conditioning. Cautiously, Steve straightened up and sat on the edge of the bed. To forget the nightmare, he buried his head between his hands and breathed against it.  
A chance encounter, which he could not even confirm was actually the same person, brought back to the surface all the memories he thought he had forgotten. How was that possible? How could the face of one person bring all this to the surface? Stir up all those bad times?  
Steve ran a hand through his sweaty hair and stood up. A slight, unconscious glance back at the bed told him that Danny continued to sleep quietly in bed. He hadn't noticed anything about Steve's nightmare, or his jerky awakening. When the blond cop slept, he looked so incredibly peaceful and innocent. He was a person worth fighting for. For him, he would take on a superior force of terrorists any day just to protect his life.  
Danny lay on his side, one hand under his head, the other on Steve's pillow. The blanket was tangled around the detective's legs. Gently, he pulled out the fabric between them and spread it over the cop. The cop only gave a low, pleasant hum and smacked his lips contentedly. With a smirk on his lips, Steve left the bedroom and went over to the bathroom.  
After the bad dream, he needed a cold shower. Firstly to get rid of the images and secondly to wash away the sweat and salt. He undressed until he was standing naked in front of the shower cubicle. There was a tiny, barely visible, circular scar on his thigh. That was where one of the bullets had hit him. The graze had long since been painted over by his tattoo and on his shoulder he had been shot too many times to be able to put his finger on a particular spot he had sustained in the fight with the terrorists.  
The times had been different then. Far different. They had made him who he was today. Actually, he had to be grateful to the fighters. Without them, who knew if he would have ended up in bed with Danny here too? Steve stepped into the shower cubicle and turned on the tepid water. Thanks to the volcanoes, the water never got as cold as it did on the mainland. Still, it was a shock when it hit his skin. Gasping, he propped himself against the wall and wrenched his eyes open. Tepid water splashed against his back.  
Massoud ... why the hell ...?  
Why you?  
Thoughts circled around in his head and would not give him a suitable answer. Only minimally did he shake it and close his eyes while the tepid water cleaned his body externally.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

With the dawn the next morning, Danny came running down the stairs on bare feet. When he had awakened, refreshed and full of new energy, he had noticed that the half of the bed next to him was not only empty, but as warm as the surroundings. Steve hadn't just been on his feet for a short time. Wearing a T-shirt that was far too big because it came from Steve, as well as sweatpants, he leaned against the doorframe in the home office, where he could see his friend working intently on the laptop. Steve's hair was tousled and he wore only his favourite Naval Academy shirt, as well as a pair of boxer shorts on his body.  
"Such longing for work?" asked Danny in a low voice, managing to make the Commander wince. He frowned in wonder. As long as he had known him, Danny had never managed to successfully sneak up on the SEAL. What had happened to make Steve so absent-minded? He approached him and gave Steve a kiss on the lips. As he did so, he caught a brief glimpse of an attractive man before his friend quickly slammed the window shut.  
"Do I have to get jealous? Are you cheating on me?" asked Danny in a joking voice, stroking Steve's hair affectionately.  
Involuntarily, he tensed his shoulders and only slowly released his breath from his lungs. "Denning sent me an email with potentially dangerous people in it. I looked at those to make sure no one slipped through our fingers," he informed Danny of his work.  
"Denning sends you an email in the middle of the night?" the blond detective raked in amusement and poked Steve on the nose.  
The SEAL, however, shook his head. "No. It was from yesterday. But you and Grace took priority."  
"And who are these potentially dangerous people?", Danny wanted to know curiously, and with a nod pointed to the laptop on whose screen was a picture of a hammock by a lagoon.  
Steve shrugged his shoulders. "Not that important."  
"Not that important?" inquired Danny perplexed, "If one of those guys shows up at Gracie's school, I'd like to know about it beforehand."  
Steve chewed nervously on his lower lip and knew he either had to tell Danny the truth or keep lying. So he decided to tell him the truth - okay, at least half a truth. "You got me. Denning didn't send me an email. I thought I saw someone I knew at the airport yesterday."  
"Where Fat?" it immediately shot across Danny's lips with concern in his voice. The fact that the guy was still at large bothered Danny immensely. When Steve shook his head, Danny unceremoniously sat down on his lap. "No. I remember the person from when I was on active duty with the SEALs," to punctuate the statements Steve pulled the man's file back up on the desktop, "Harun Massoud ad-Qadi was one of the bravest men I have ever met in my life. He bravely faced an overwhelming force of Taliban to save a soldier's life. He deserved more than a medal."  
"What happened to him?" asked Danny curiously, tearing himself away from the man's interesting appearance. The ice-blue eyes made him think he was being followed. He studied his friend's face closely. Gently, he traced the lines of his face and was particularly fascinated by the delicate shadow of his beard.  
Steve lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumped. "There was a bombing. Massoud died in my arms."  
"Oh ... that ... I'm sorry, Steve."  
The SEAL reached for Danny's wrist. "More importantly, why did I think I saw him yesterday ..."  
Danny clearly realised how important the subject was to him. Determined, he stood up and looked deep into his eyes. "We're going to find out. It's not for nothing that we work for a task force that has amazing resources. From the surveillance pictures at the airport, we can find out where he came from, what flight he took and what his name is. After that, we will also find his whereabouts.""Thank you, Danny," Steve said with relief.  
The latter smiled. "Now come on, let's bake Gracie pancakes before she has to go to school!"

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Hey there:)

You might know me as leledezember here on Ao3, that account where I write mostly about Merlin - the new Adventures and Julie and the phantoms. This here is my other account which I made also in 2020. On this account I will post some old and newer fanfictions from the last five years, or also some future one, which are short or long in between. I do have seen or recently watched all the series I´m writing about. So here´s a short note for you, what I will publish in the next weeks on this account and what type of series you will see here:

\- Macgyver ( from the series of 2017 )  
\- Hawai Five-O (Mainly about Danny and Steve bc you know why:)

More will be added soon:)


	2. Lead me to my doom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comment on the first chapter:)
> 
> Also hope you enjoy this chapter as well. And whats your favourite Episode of the whole Series?

Danny held the tablet in his hands when he entered Steve's office. The display gathered all the data he had collected on the man that Steve had told him about yesterday morning at the airport. The commander himself kept tapping the end of the pencil dreamily on his lips and staring into space at the screen of his computer. He had long since forgotten where he was. He couldn't stop thinking about Massoud and wondering how the man had survived. Steve had been there, holding the dying man in his arms. So how could he still be alive? Did he perhaps have a twin brother that the military didn't know about?  
A hand waved frantically between him and the computer, causing Steve to startle out of his thoughts. He looked Danny in the distinctly darker blue eyes than Massoud's. "Earth to Steve," Danny brought him out of his thoughts with a mixture of amusement and concern.  
Steve shook his head and sat up straighter. He briskly put the pencil back on the desk. "Did you find anything?"  
"As a matter of fact," Danny replied with a nod, placing the tablet in front of him, "while I don't know yet if the man you saw yesterday is really that Massoud, you didn't have any halocitrons. This guy with the ice-blue eyes does exist. That's Professor Mehrzad Shaaban. He studied military history at Havard University and has taken a job at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, where he wants to teach the same subject to the new generation of students. He's from Lebanon and came to the States with his mother Resa when he was in his mid-twenties, which was about ten years ago."  
Steve stared at the man's photo and saw clearly that he had long since become an American citizen. His gaze flitted over the lines with his details. Everything sounded plausible and watertight. An unalterable fact. If he had lied about his past, the immigration authorities would have found out and expelled him - or done worse to him.  
or worse.  
Steve had to accept, willy-nilly, that he was wrong. "Thank you, Danny," came disappointedly from his lips.  
His friend picked up the tablet and sat down on the sofa. "I know what it's like to lose a loved one and how much hope it gives you to hope that they're still alive. Matt was always messing with the wrong people and right up until the end I hoped he was still alive. And even today, knowing full well that he is no longer alive, I find myself wishing that one day he would show up on my doorstep alive and the cartel had stuffed the wrong man into the barrel.  
I'm so very sorry, Steve."  
That Danny gave so much and so deeply of his soul so unexpectedly surprised him greatly. "I feel like I can still feel his blood on my hands." With these words Steve confirmed to him his suspicion that he had not yet fully processed the man's death. Including a hunch that there was more than just saving a soldier behind the story that connected Steve to this Massoud.  
Kono unexpectedly poked her head into her superior's office. "Do we have a new case?"  
Both men shook their heads in sync. "No. Good morning," Steve greeted them with his usual sunshine smile, but Danny clearly saw the shadow that lay across his features.

❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

The task force did not remain without a case for long, because shortly after Chin had also come into the office, Steve's mobile phone rang and Duke informed him that the Honolulu PD had a new case for them. He gave him an address in Pearl City.  
Steve and Danny got out of the Camaro and approached the crime scene with Kono and Chin, which had happened in a back alley. There were hardly any onlookers. Traffic from the main street could not be heard a cross street away. The blue lights of the patrol cars were on and the barrier tapes had been attached to the wing mirrors, among other things.  
Max was also already on the scene looking at the body and the forensics team was collecting the first traces. Deftly, Steve dived under the cordon and approached the actual scene of the crime. "What did ... we ...", Steve brought to his lips, at first briskly and then aghast.  
A man had been bound at the wrists with leather straps and was hanging by them down the wall. Someone had hung him from the wall with a crossbow bolt. His head had fallen on his bare chest and someone had accurately written Arabic characters on it with a sharp object. In neat handwriting, 'حكيم' was visible there.  
Of the very few words Steve knew in Arabic, he would recognise this one anytime, anywhere. The words literally burned themselves into his retinas. He snapped his eyes open and slapped a hand over his mouth. "Oh God ... oh damn ... no! That ... that ... no!!! Why?!", Steve screamed out louder and louder and turned around. His hands buried themselves in his hair and his whole body shook. Tears filled his eyes and he think he could hardly catch his breath. The small alley he was in mixed in rapid succession with the memories that flooded his head. Emotions boiled up inside him that could not have been more opposite.  
Love, anger, hate, affection, disbelief, horror, terror, security, safety and endless fear.  
He put his hand over his eyes and fell to his knees. Tears ran down his cheeks and he sobbed like a toddler. "No ... no ... no ... no ...", he murmured powerlessly. Lightly he rocked back and forth. He no longer knew what was past and what was present.  
He saw corpses. Dozens of them. Men. Women. Children. Disfigured, mutilated. All tied up and pinned to crossbow bolts on the walls of their houses. All wore the same word on their chests. For the perpetrator, a sign of guilt. They had done something unforgivable. Something that could no longer be made good before Allah. Their murderer had judged them and taken them to Jahannam, the hell in Islam.  
Such a village had been slaughtered like so many others. By a single, mad fanatic who rallied his Taliban troops behind him.  
But it had soon not stopped at villagers. He had tortured and disfigured a soldier in the same way as the villagers. It had become personal for America and Steve's team was to put a stop to it.  
A gentle hand placed itself on Steve's shoulder, abruptly bringing him out of his memories. Slowly he lowered his hands and looked up into Danny's clear and concerned eyes. The detective came walking around the commander and crouched down in front of him. He put his other hand on Steve's second shoulder. "Hey, what's going on? Do you know the killer?"  
Slowly, Steve nodded and wiped under his nose. Chin and Kono also stood by their boss, alert and worried. None of them would have expected the steadfast SEAL to be thrown off track so badly. With trembling fingers, he pointed behind him at the body. "The word on his chest is Arabic and means 'doctor', 'scholar', 'sage'. It's pronounced 'hakim'." Steve closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. Still his heart was always beating wildly in his chest and he had to concentrate on his breathing, which is why he paused a little. "That's what this butcher calls himself. In Afghanistan, he has a lot of people on his conscience. Both his own countrymen and various soldiers. My team was supposed to catch him, but we never succeeded. During a bombing raid, we had hoped to have finally taken him out, because after that, no more bodies with his mark ever turned up. Apparently we were wrong ..."  
The fact that Steve was so open about the military's secrets spoke clearly of how confused the commander was by this discovery.  
Danny had to think of his partner's words from the morning and tilted his head. With warm words he asked, "Did Massoud also die by his hand?"  
Slowly Steve shook his head. "Yes and no. The day the military bombed Hakim's refuge from the air, I was there. I tried to get Massoud out and save his life, but I failed. Massoud died in my arms, I was the only survivor," Steve confessed in a trembling voice and down-beaten sobs made his voice tremble.  
Kono also put a hand on her boss's shoulder to make him feel that he was not alone. Steve shook his head incomprehensibly. He didn't want to believe that Hakim was still alive and continuing his business in Hawaii, Steve's home of all places. Hawaii was supposed to be his retreat, where monsters from the Afghan Hindu Kush had no business.  
Was he slowly losing it? Had he only imagined Massoud yesterday and was he now having a nightmare?  
"I have to go to the office ...", Steve said and stood up, but Danny held him by the forearm. "You're not going anywhere, Steve. You're still completely out of it. I'll drive you." With deft moves and zero resistance from the soldier, Danny snatched the keys and took the still-shocked SEAL commander to the Camaro.  
Chin and Kono gave each other a worried look. It was still beyond them that there was anything in the world that could throw the commander off his game like that. Even when finding his mother, Steve had been more composed.  
Not wanting to stand idly by, they turned their attention to Max.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

At the task force headquarters, Steve immediately turned to the smart tablet and entered his order with nimble fingers. He had to enter a military security code more than once before he finally got what he was looking for on the screen.  
Danny remained standing beside Steve the entire time with due decorum. Close enough to stand by him, and far enough away that Steve didn't have to kill him for the classified data. He was incredibly worried about his partner. It had shaken him to the very foundations of his soul to see the usually steadfast and tough SEAL crumble. Even though his curiosity was killing him, on the other hand he would rather not know what caused Steve to break down and shake like that.  
On one of the wall screens, the oversized face of an elderly man dressed in army tarn clothing appeared. It was clear from the letters that he belonged to the Navy and was called Patterson.  
Steve held on to the smarttable with trembling arms and stared into the man's kind eyes, which kept turning into concern. He was already about to say something when Steve began to speak. With fear in his voice he breathed, "He's back ..."  
Patterson frowned, not quite knowing what his shocked soldier was getting at.  
"Nikolaj, Hakim ... he's back. I saw his work. He's here ... in Hawaii! And tell me not that he died in the bombing, that has not been confirmed to this day," he immediately talked the man out of a standard phrase.  
Nikolaj, however, had no such intention. His gaze wandered over to Danny. "Is that a secure line?"  
Steve nodded. "Yes. This is Detective Danny Williams. My partner. The task force is working the case with Hakim's body."  
Nikolai propped his forehead on his fingers and closed his eyes. Clearly, guilt was on his face. Something was bothering the man, Danny could tell. Steve didn't notice because he was also looking down at the ground, trying to keep all the memories, emotions and that shocked, paralysing feeling under control.  
"The military has known this for two years, Steve. Two years ago he started nailing new bodies to the wall in Mosul. He left the Hindu Kush and went to Iraq. We had absolutely no idea he was in the United States now," Nikolaj explained to him in a calm voice. Danny could clearly see in his face that it pained him to see the soldier suffer so. He would have liked to reach through the screen to give him a hug.  
"But we," a firm, feminine voice sounded from the glass double doors, making Steve wince because he knew her. Yesterday. At the airport. That was where he had last heard the voice. Surprised, he wheeled around and saw the woman standing in the doorway, the one he had poured coffee down her shirt yesterday. Although Steve was still not at his proper level due to the shocking situation, he couldn't help saying, "I think I owe you the cost of the cleaning."  
The lady smiled and waved off as she came closer. "If it had been my private clothes, by all means, but thus, thanks to Uncle Sam, they got away with it again. I'm Agent Angela Queen, CIA. We've already tracked Hakim through three states but have been unable to apprehend him."  
Behind them, Nikolaj cleared his throat in an urgent tone. The three present wheeled around to face him. "There's something else you need to know, Steve."  
He did not begin to imagine what was to come.  
"Among the people who were murdered in Mosul were those who had had closer contact with Hakim. Due to an internal virus, all files were destroyed. Currently you are the only person who knows the face of Hakim."  
Steve put his hand in front of his mouth and became even paler than he already was. Swaying slightly, the commander held onto the smart table for support. He didn't want to understand what this meant.  
"He wants me. I'm his next target."  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

"What?! Steve, what's the meaning of this?" shouted Danny perplexedly after his partner, who disappeared from the headquarters with brisk steps, tears in his eyes. Although it would be more appropriate to run after the commander in such a situation, Danny was paralysed and could not bring himself to follow him.  
The commander also refrained from answering and soon disappeared. "Can ... can someone enlighten me?", Danny pleadingly asked the Navy guy and the CIA agent.  
"It would be better if we waited for your colleagues to join us, Detective Williams. I'd hate to have to give this sensitive information twice," Angela calmly answered him and walked over to the smart tablet. With deft fingers she knew how to operate the device and said goodbye to the soldier.  
"Who was that anyway?" asked Danny further with a nod to the disappearing video signal.  
At least to that Danny got an immediate answer. "That was Navy Captain Nikolaj Patterson. Commander McGarrett's commanding officer when he was still an active member of the military. He is one of the few people who witnessed the horror Hakim spread back then."  
As soon as Angela had finished working on the Smarttable, she sat down on one of the armchairs in the corner and crossed her legs. To give Danny something to do, he took his mobile out of his pocket and called Chin and Kono to hurry back to headquarters.  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Although from a medical and psychological point of view it was probably the most stupid idea a McGarrett could have, he had got behind the wheel of his Silverado and drove to the university without any detours.  
As a good friend had once told him: Paper was patient. And this he would now verify, whether Danny's net findings were true or not. He had to know. If Hakim was back, it was not far-fetched that he had not been mistaken yesterday and had really seen Massoud. Maybe he had taken on a new identity because of Hakim. So that he wouldn't be pinned down next at the university building.  
Somewhat breakneck, Steve steered the pick-up through the morning traffic, keeping a firm eye on his destination. It wasn't long before he reached the spacious car park in front of the main university building. With tight, military drilled strides and the shiny badge on his waistband, he entered the building and looked around for the secretary's office to find out where exactly the professor was staying and doing his readings.  
"Excuse me, ma'am, I am looking for Professor Mehrzad Shaaban." He punctuated his insistent request with a photo on his smartphone and held it under the woman's nose. "I'm from Five-0," he added at the back to convey to the lady that he was allowed to know.  
"What do you want with the professor?" she inquired curiously.  
Steve shoved the phone back into his pocket. "That's the professor's business. Where exactly is he currently?"  
The woman looked up the timetable and told him the correct lecture theatre, as well as directions to it. Steve thanked her in a polite, calm voice, even though everything inside him was screaming to run there as fast as possible to protect Massoud from the impending danger. He did not want to lose him a second time.  
Inside his mind, the wild thoughts began to spiral again and it took Steve a great deal of effort to suppress them. He had to keep a clear head if he wanted to protect himself, Massoud and his Ohana. Several times Steve took a deep breath and walked among the many students that a campus entailed. Outside on the grounds, many students sat around talking, reading, playing, eating or studying. None of them had any idea of the darkness inside Steve or what monster was lurking out there waiting for his next victim.  
In the next building, Steve entered and walked down the corridor until he spotted the right hall. A single, piercing and gentle voice filled the room, causing Steve's body to vibrate. It awakened an unprecedented longing in him. Tears obscured his vision.

Quietly, Steve opened the lecture hall and slipped into the room. Several students sat on the stair-like seats and listened with a childlike fascination to the new professor, who explained to them with an enthusiasm Atila's campaigns and what his true motivation behind them was. In War History, not only the past wars of the USA were chewed over, but all wars that had found a mention somewhere. From the first slingshot war in the Stone Age to the current conflict in the Middle East, everything was really on the timetable.  
Steve leaned against the wall next to the door and pushed his arms behind his back. He didn't have to look down at the professor's desk to know who was holding his classes down there. With his eyes closed, he listened to the melodic voice that had perfected its English. He could not entirely hide the Pashto accent. Steve had learned this wonderful, foreign language through him. Hearing Massoud speak in his own mother tongue now made Steve's heart beat faster and made him proud in some way, even if he had not taught it to him.  
In his mind's eye, his appearance of ten years ago mingled with his of today. He saw his soft but at the same time supple movements in front of him, how he taught the subject to the students. Especially the female listeners, who were rather rarely represented for this course of study, hung on the professor's full-bodied lips.  
The man's voice ended and a rustling and louder murmuring made Steve open his eyes. The lesson was over and the students left the hall. Some of the young people stood on the sidelines waiting for the professor to have time to answer a few of their questions. Not wanting to miss him, Steve pushed past the students and went down the steps.  
Massoud, or Mehrzad Shaaban as he preferred to be called, talked to his audience in as calm, collected a voice as when he gave his reading.  
When Steve appeared among the departing students, Massoud faltered in his text for a moment before continuing. Once he had answered all the questions for now, he excused himself from them and turned to the Commander. "Massoud?" asked Steve hopefully and with a thick lump of fear in the pit of his stomach that he might have been wrong after all. Desperation and unknown desire were written all over his face.  
"My name is Mehrzad Shaaban," he gave Steve the answer, somewhat confused, and stuck to the badge sceptically. "Did I park my car wrong, officer?"  
Steve felt a twinge in his guts. Was the paper not as patient as he thought after all?  
But those ice-blue eyes ... those delicate movements ... and his deliberate, warm voice ...  
Everything in Steve's head screamed that this was Massoud. His friend ... Briefly, the SEAL collected himself. "Commander. I'm Steve McGarrett from Task Force Five-0. You didn't park your car the wrong way, but someone is after you. That someone is firmly convinced that you are Harun Massoud ad-Qadi and doesn't care that you only look like him."  
Slightly furtively, the professor looked around and when none of his students were within earshot, he asked in a whisper, "Who do you think is after me?"  
"He calls himself Hakim and is a brutal sadist. He has already killed hundreds of people," Steve answered him with a pounding heart. He waited for any reaction, positive or negative.  
His eyes searched for the slightest emotion in the foreign man's face, but his own hope stubbornly lingered on his face. Everything inside him rebelled that this was Massoud and he was in great danger because of it.

The professor leaned back against the lectern and frowned before asking cautiously, "Wror?"  
It was a Pashto word that sent a huge wave of heat through Steve's body. His eyes glazed over and he fell around the man's neck with sudden exuberance. Barely ending words in that very language came out of Steve's mouth and he didn't want to let go of Massoud. He buried his fingers in the hair that was familiar despite the long time that had passed. Tears rolled down Steve's cheeks and he cried out all the pain and lonely nights. Trembling, he hung around the neck of the man who held him just as intimately in his arms. and did not want to let go at any price. He closed his eyes, as Massoud was also built close to the water. The familiar scent of the SEAL hit his nose and told of what he had missed for so long. Steve had put on weight since the last time. His muscles were stronger and in everything he seemed more mature.  
Ten fucking years ...  
Gently Massoud cradled him in his arms and broke through the torrent of words almost choked with sobs. "Steve. Steve, I hate to interrupt you, but the next professor needs the room."  
Only hesitantly did Steve disengage from the man, fearing he would slip away and all this would rise to a nightmare, losing Massoud yet another time. Only hesitantly did Steve turn and discover another professor standing at the edge of the blackboard. He quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. "Excuse me ...", Steve began, but his voice failed him.  
Massoud was much more composed. "Paul, this is Steve McGarrett. We lost track of each other for many years. And we ..."  
The man waved it off with a smile. "I get it. No problem."  
"Are we going to the canteen? To talk?", Massoud turned to Steve questioningly and packed up his papers. He then slung his worn leather bag around his shoulder. In reply, Steve reached for the professor's hand and nodded.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟


	3. Lost and Found

Angela Queen was watched by three pairs of prying eyes as she opened sensitive data on the smart tablet to brief the task force on this sensitive case. "In 2002, a warlord by the name of 'Hakim' emerged in Afghanistan, uniting a local Taliban faction under him. Anyone who opposed his views or defiled God in his eyes was tortured by him and had his name carved into his chest in Arabic letters using a scalpel. He then shoots a bolt into the wall of the house using a crossbow and hangs his victim from it by leather straps. Until late autumn of the same year, he had come to our attention but was lower on the priority list. Until a US soldier fell into his hands, whom he nailed to the wall in exactly the same way as his previous victims. The military then sent a SEAL team to take out the warlord. First they were to keep an eye on the village from the mountains before venturing further to identify the warlord, but the team was surprised by a Taliban patrol and quickly the fighters added up to a considerable superior number. They had no choice but to retreat. In order to give them a chance to get back to camp in one piece, the team leader gave them cover and shot at the approaching Taliban," Angela reported in a composed voice to the three members of the task force, showing various photos of the victims, a small village in the mountains and a group picture of the SEAL team. All but two of the men's faces had not been blacked out. Among the people, they immediately recognised Steve, Billy, Sam, Freddy and Nick. The others were unknown to them. "Why is their face blackened?" he wanted to know curiously.  
"Because these men are still active soldiers in the armed forces. Their identity must be preserved. That is why their names are also blacked out in the following mission reports.  
By leaving their comrade behind, the military felt compelled to carry out a rescue operation. However, the weather interfered, as there was a change of weather and a harsh onset of winter, making it impossible for the troops to advance into the mountains. The military was forced to wait until the snow disappeared."  
"Who from the team had stayed behind?", Kono wanted to know curiously, exchanging a quick glance with Chin. Both had their suspicions, but hoped they were wrong. To demonstrate his position that Danny shared their thoughts, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. The task force members looked at Angela.  
She raised her eyebrow meaningfully. "Commander McGarrett was leading the team at the time and stayed behind to allow the soldiers to retreat."  
Swiftly she picked out another file. "Scouts were sent the following spring to scout the village and we also managed to sneak in two local spies, but no one had any idea where McGarrett was. Some of the Taliban we managed to capture from his group told us that his throat had long since been slit in cold blood. On the one hand, the military held to their motto that as long as there was no definite proof, he was not considered dead, but common sense had a different belief. His team was also of two minds.  
Since there was no evidence of McGarrett anywhere in the village, the military decided to send two bombers into the area to raze the village to the ground. Hakim and his men were to be radically erased from world history. After the bombers had reduced the village to rubble, teams moved in.

Delta Force and the SEALs and took a look at everything there. Who had been killed, whether there were any familiar faces among them and whether anyone had survived. Since the bombs had not only hit the settlement, but also the adjacent mountain, the corridors of a disused tunnel were uncovered. Curious, the soldiers went in there and managed to eliminate more fighters until they came across a man, disoriented and trembling, holding up his dirty dog tags and pleading not to be shot. Only on second glance did they suspect this man to be the missing SEAL. They brought him out of the cave and had him taken to the military hospital where he was patched up. DNA analysis and fingerprint matching confirmed that he was McGarrett.  
They sent him to Landstuhl for further treatment. Due to a colourful drug cocktail that lit up symbolically in the lab, like a Christmas tree, the doctors had to keep a special eye on him. Due to the collapse of the tunnel, he had broken almost all the bones in his body, had suffered several bruises, haematomas, cuts and the like. He was emaciated and dehydrated. McGarrett was delirious for over three weeks and had been running a high fever for a week. It had taken a long time for him to be transferred from the intensive care unit to the normal ward. It took almost a year for Steve to return to active duty and he was supervised by a psychologist for years. According to McGarrett's testimony, he had not been Hakim's only prisoner. McGarrett had become very close friends with the prisoner, whose name was Harun Massoud ad-Qadi. It was the loss of the Afghan that McGarrett suffered most."  
Angela still showed the investigators photos of the destroyed area, including the pictures of McGarrett when he had already been in intensive care in Landstuhl. There was little of the Steve they knew today from this mountain of flesh. Kono looked aside rather briskly, not wanting to see the pictures. Danny forced himself to consciously look at the footage so that he could better help Steve.  
The commander had been through hell overseas. Had been tortured and tormented for months by a fanatic and in the end his only friend during that time was taken from him. Danny closed his eyes and tried not to even begin to imagine what Steve had been through.  
The CIA agent was not yet finished with her briefing. "With the destruction of Hakim's base, the specific killing stopped and everyone thought that the mad warlord had died in the attack. Eight years later, everyone was proved wrong when people were again nailed to their houses in Mosul. Everything was exactly the same as in the files. Even the handwriting on the victims' chests was the same. At that moment, we all realised that Hakim had escaped with his life. To get behind the man's identity, the US military sent two soldiers to find out who he was. Having been there the first time, they knew roughly how Hakim operated. Contact broke off shortly after they told the command centre that they knew his identity, and three days later the military found the soldiers tortured and equally disfigured on a wall of a house opposite the US embassy in Mosul. His statement was clear: anyone who got too close to him was radically removed from the system.  
After his killing spree in Mosul, Hakim shifted his focus to victims in the United States. Maryland, Arizona and California were not spared from him, until he now most recently struck here in Hawaii. Always closer to the residence of the commander, whom he had already tortured and tormented extensively, but never nailed to the wall of the house.  
Based on a compiled profile by the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit - the BAU - we were able to establish the following things: Hakim has a high IQ. He must be between 35.  
and 50 years old. He has a way with words and medical knowledge to torture his victims so precisely and carve his name on them. He also has a rapturous view of the world and believes he is the judge on God's side. Injustice must be atoned for through him."  
As soon as Angela's words faded, Chin shook his head in shock. "This is a sick sadist!"  
"Where is Steve? If Hakim really has it in for him, he shouldn't be wandering around the island without personal protection," Kono interjected with an uneasy tingle in the pit of his stomach.

⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

The quiet but definitely bustling activity in the canteen brought Steve down from his wild emotional chaos. The myriad emotions had been fighting hard until just now to see which would get the upper hand. With a steady hand, Massoud placed a glass of freshly made latte macchiato in front of each of them and smiled at Steve with his typical warm-hearted smile. It filled him with joy to see the commander alive and well again. He gently stroked his strong hand.  
"What else do you remember?" he asked Steve curiously as he used the spoon to scrape off the top layer of milk foam and elegantly pop it into his mouth. Steve disengaged from Massoud's hand and turned the glass of hot drink back and forth sheepishly.  
"He tortured us. Both of us. Over and over again. He had enjoyed it. And then I heard a whistle and the next moment the earth shook. I can still see the cracks forming in the rock above us. The rake that had previously left me hanging from the ceiling lost its grip and I tumbled powerlessly to the ground. The next thing I know, I wake up with a hellish headache and see that the dust has almost settled. The pain is unbelievable but I ignore it. I check on our tormentor, but he's been hit hard by the rocks. Before I could dwell on him further, you suddenly groaned and caught my attention. You were badly hurt and I tried to tend to your injuries, but there were too many. To seek help, I put your arm over my shoulder and brought you out of the tunnel. I found it increasingly difficult and you lost consciousness more and more. You kept whispering in my ear that we had to hold on, but then you couldn't anymore. I held you in my arms and you kept telling me that I had to carry on alone and survive for both of us. I have terrible gaps in my memory. Next I see the targeting lasers of assault rifles and can't believe the military is here. The next memory is in Germany, where I come to in the hospital. Day and night the doctors and staff fought for me. No one wanted to lose me."  
Massoud was silent for a long time when Steve had finished. He drank his coffee half empty as his unexpected visitor began sipping his own drink. "How did you get out of the cave? How did you survive?" asked Steve, who couldn't believe how the worse injured man should be sitting across from him alive.  
Massoud had to laugh abruptly. "As you know, I had family in the village. My mother Raima had not been in the village at the time of the bombing, but she saw the attacks. She came running back immediately. After the soldiers flew you out of the valley by helicopter, she ran into the tunnels and found me. She is a doctor and was able to patch me up before taking me to the nearest hospital. While I was still recovering, she made sure our identities were changed so that no one could prosecute or charge us for Hakim's machinations. When I was well, we made it to the US and we built a new life there as Resa and Mehrzad Shaaban," Massoud shook his head in disbelief, "at the very least, I expected to meet you in Hawaii. See you at I had just been convinced that you had died in the tunnel because my mother couldn't see who the soldiers were taking away. She thought it was Hakim's half-dead remains."  
Steve had to grin. "No, it was my fucking body with pretty much every bone shattered in it. May I see them, your injuries?" he asked, slightly shy and a touch embarrassed.  
Massoud nodded and stood up. Next he lifted his casual-looking shirt to reveal a badly scarred body. Nasty and wide scars were everywhere. Steve slapped his hands over his mouth. "Fuck! That's ... oh shit!"  
Massoud shrugged resignedly. "They're a part of my life. But enough about the past. How are you doing? What are you doing now?"  
Steve was glad of the change of subject and banished the sight of the scars from his mind. As lucky as Steve had been in the collapse, Massoud had suffered more bad luck. "I've been running my own task force on the island for a good three years. With that I enjoy full immunity and assisted the police in fighting crime. Before that, I was still an active soldier with the SEALs. Through the murder of my father, I was able to form the task force. I live in my old parents' house near Diamond Head. I have also finally admitted to being in love with my partner at work. He currently lives with me with his daughter more than he lives in his own flat."  
"It's nice that you've found someone again after all these years," Massoud commented, patting him on the back of the hand.  
Steve shrugged and he felt a pang of guilt. He felt like he was cheating on Massoud with Danny. "I thought you were dead," he justified his action, putting on his typical loyal dachshund look that Massoud hadn't been able to resist even then. "Bygones, we both lived our lives."

Thanks for reading, and sorry for the bad text format. I don´t know how to change this to make it better for reading my story


	4. Obsess

Obsess (verb; Engl.): to haunt, pursue  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Instinctively, Danny raised his head as Steve opened the glass door and returned to headquarters, lost in thought. Immediately he left his work and shot up from his desk, only to leave his office compartment the next moment and fall around Steve's neck in relief. "Thank God you're alright!"  
A touch surprised and caught off guard, Steve slowly put his arms around the detective and patted him on the back. Quietly Danny whispered in his ear, "Where have you been?"  
"Are you going to be my stalking rabbit now?" asked Steve the amused counter question, raising his eyebrows. Gently, he broke away from the embrace.  
He had, however, caught the detective on the wrong foot. His face took on an unnatural dark red colour. "This isn't funny, Steven! There's a completely insane psychopath running around out there who is most likely out to get you, and you're here playing sunshine!" he hissed at him darkly. His fear was clearly audible in the undertone.  
Apparently he and the team had been brought up to speed by Angela Queen. He pulled the detective by the sleeve into his office and closed the door. He gave the lady from the CIA such a scowl that she quickly sat back down on her four letters at the Smarttable. Danny folded his arms in front of his chest and looked at Steve expectantly, still waiting for an answer.  
"I went to uni," Steve gave slowly, thinking of Massoud again. A smile flitted across his lips. That he had found his friend again was a strong boost, even if Hakim was also back.  
It didn't take Danny much to interpret his partner's slightly inane grin. "You found him? It's really Massoud?"  
Slowly, the SEAL nodded. Excited butterflies still danced in his stomach. "Can we keep this to ourselves? For now?"  
"Why? If Massoud is here, Hakim will be after him too," Danny voiced his concerns and sat down behind his desk. Steve, however, had his logical reasons for being secretive. "Hakim hacked into the Pentagon to destroy all his data. Or hired someone to do it. I'm concerned that he continues to have someone in the government and if the CIA learns of Massoud's fake identity, it could put him in serious danger. It's enough that I walk around in public and many know me. Mehrzad, however, is just a simple professor at a small university."  
"That makes sense," Danny grumbled in dry agreement. "As long as his life isn't in danger, I won't say a word about it to Agent Queen."  
"Thanks, Brah. I owe you one," Steve thanked him sincerely. Danny grinned and tilted his head. "I think I already have the privileges?"  
As a mischievous grin spread across Steve's face, he winked at him. "I'll go appease our CIA aunt then, before she has a meltdown and eats her chair." With his thumb he pointed at the woman who was sitting on the far edge as tense as a whistle.  
Danny just nodded and dismissed his partner from the office.  
"Commander McGarrett, I see you reached headquarters without a scratch," she gave pointedly and a hint sourly.  
Steve put on his most charming smile and pointed to his own office. "A word?"  
She nodded slowly and followed the Commander next door. With his arms folded, he stood in front of his desk, behind which Steve sat down. He gestured to the armchairs and asked the agent to sit down, then held out his hand. "Steve. We've had a bit of a bumpy start."  
"Pleased to meet you. Where have you been?" Angela didn't put much stock in the man's outsized friendliness. She wanted Hakim out of circulation. That was all that mattered to her.  
Steve already knew she would ask for it. "I needed some fresh air, Agent Queen. At the scene, I was confronted with the fact that this son of a bitch who brutally tortured me in the winter eleven years ago, and who I thought would never draw another breath, is not only still alive, but still up to his old tricks back home on my island, and the CIA or the military doesn't even begin to think it's right, to tell me that Hakim is still alive," he hissed angrily at the lady, but then took a breath and continued in a deadly, friendly voice, "I just wanted to treat myself to some of the fresh sea breeze before I dangle off the side of a building too. ”  
Only slightly, Angela tilted her head and looked at him more closely. This person was as inscrutable as the coral reefs off the islands. She had heard from the team that McGarrett had broken down psychologically due to Hakim's unexpected return and now he was so composed and pretended that the whole thing didn't affect him in the least.  
He ate the whole thing up inside himself and tried to deal with it by suppressing it and keeping it together. But that never really went well and sooner or later he ended up going crazy. "If you want to talk, I'll be happy to lend you a sympathetic ear, Commander."  
"Steve is quite enough. We'll still have something to do with each other here and that's why you're welcome to give yourself the 'Commander'."  
Slowly, Angela nodded. "The military records give a completely different picture of you, Com ... Steve," she admitted to him with an apologetic smile.  
"That was a decade ago now. In that time I have gained experience and grown from my experiences. Today, while I would still save my team's ass, I would have done things differently."  
Now the CIA agent was more than curious. There hadn't been much in the files and so she listened to him with sharpened senses. "And those would be?"  
"For example, I would have taken the chance when I had been able to escape," Steve calmly replied. He would have been long gone from Hakim's village when the bombs had fallen from the sky if he had taken the chance then. But for Massoud's sake, he had stayed to grab a moment when they both could have escaped. Unfortunately, the tunnel had collapsed over their heads before they could do so.  
Angela was more than surprised. "Why didn't they escape? What stopped you?"  
"Not what, but who. I couldn't leave Massoud behind. He nursed me back to health after the Taliban surrounded me and protected me from Hakim's men, but one dark night he invaded and captured us both. I am still deeply in his debt today, but I can never repay it."  
"Angela," the CIA agent spoke out abruptly.  
Questioningly, Steve raised his eyebrows; he had no idea what she was getting at. "My name. I lost my partner in the hunt for Hakim. He was the first victim in Los Angeles. To this day I still have Dennis' voice in my ear, as he conveys a message from Hakim to me in a trembling voice. Before we could locate him and drive there, he killed Dennis. Even today I wake up from it regularly because I hear his death screams in my head."

_______________

Now it was clear to Steve why Angela was so determined to get Hakim. She was out for revenge.  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Flanked by Angela and Danny, neither of whom wanted to let the Commander out of their sight, they breezed into Max's coroner's office. He had asked for the task force to come as he had finished the autopsy on the dead man. Meanwhile, Chin and Kono had managed to identify the man. He was Ahmed Kasani, whose parents were from Saudi Arabia. He had been pinned to the back wall of a pub where Muslim citizens often met. Apparently, in Hakim's eyes, he had done something forbidden. What kind of transgression it was, the two of them were still busy with.  
"Hello Commander, are you feeling better?" was the first thing Max inquired about the welfare of Five-0's chief, who nodded firmly, indicating that he did not want to talk about it any further. "What can you tell us about the cause of death?"  
The coroner led his summoned visitor next door where the dead man's body lay. He covered the white cloth so they could see the carved Arabic word red on the pale skin. "Because of the strong blood circulation when lines were precisely set with a scalpel, it clearly speaks that the man was still alive. His killer has very good skill, as the man's movements did not result in any wrong or slipped cuts. Furthermore, thin, sharp blades were used to inflict superficial but extremely painful wounds on him. Marks of lashes can be seen on his back. All the bones on his hands were broken and his fingernails removed. He had been in great pain before his death. The cause of death was a well-aimed stab of a thin metal rod between the uppermost vertebrae. This caused an injury to the spinal canal. As long as the rod remains there, the person is still alive but causes hellish pain. If it is pulled out, he is dead. If an object is stuck in the place, the person is condemned to death. Even the doctors at the hospital can't help then."  
Danny turned white as a sheet and swallowed hard. The thoughts ran through his head and he quickly looked over at Steve. This was a person he never wanted to face in his life. "What a psychopath and even that word is too mild for this scumbag! How could you have survived in his care for so long?", Danny asked his partner with fear in his voice.  
"I don't know, Danno."  
Steve had long since given up trying to get behind Hakim's motives. This eternal guilt about why he was the only one of his victims still alive was just eating him up otherwise. Somewhere in the psychopath's deep, black thought processes lay the answer to this riddle. What was it about him that Hakim had 'only' tortured him?  
"With you, Steve, Hakim is acting completely abnormal. Out of his pattern. I have to agree with your partner, there's something about you that Hakim won't or can't kill you," Angela interjected into the conversation between the two investigators. She eyed the commander closely, as if the answer to this riddle would appear on the man's forehead.  
Between Steve's eyes, however, only a steep, deep crease formed, which Danny often dubbed 'aneurysm face'. "Do you think I haven't thought about this! For ten fucking years I've been asking myself this question, why wasn't I strung up on the nearest wall of a house after no more than three days, like all the rest of his victims! I was there in that village and I lived through hell. Hakim not only tortured me physically, but also psychologically!!!"

________________

he hissed at his companions and left Max's premises, snorting with rage. He didn't want to hear any more of all these questions, they made him incredibly angry. And it wasn't that Danny and Angela were asking him these questions, but the fact that he still didn't have an answer after so long.  
In the coroner's office, those who had stayed behind looked silently into each other's eyes. "Commander McGarrett was tortured by the killer?" asked Max in surprise. He had suspected that the Commander had dealt with him before, but he had not expected this circumstance.  
Danny nodded silently and lowered his gaze. He was not comfortable talking about him in Steve's absence, it felt wrong. Steve was not only his partner at work, but also in his private life. Therefore, he felt very uncomfortable in his skin.  
"In the winter of 2002/2003 in the Hindu Kush. That year, winter already broke out in mid-October and lasted until the end of March. Normally, the first snowflakes fall only a month later and already in March, large parts of the mountains are passable again. But this winter everything was different. McGarrett was in the hands of the terrorist for six months before the military could bring him home," she informed the coroner and also gave Danny more information to work with.  
Max didn't let on whether this news shocked or interested him. He stood silently on the other side of the metal table where the body of Ahmed Kasani lay.  
Whether from anger or fear, Angela did not know how to tell when she saw Danny's hands trembling. "Da-Das ... This must be a nightmare."  
"Detective?" she asked in surprise.  
"I've known Steve for over three years and I've learned a lot of things about him, but what you've already told us all, Agent Queen, must be a nightmare. I don't want to and honestly can't understand what Steve has been through. There's something inside of me that's blocking me from even beginning to admit that." The man's words sounded as confused as he felt inside too.  
To disengage from the conversation at this point, he followed his partner, hoping to catch up with him before he could do something stupid.  
This left Angela and Max alone in the forensic room. "Have you known the Commander for a long time?" she abruptly wanted to know from him through small talk.  
"Almost as long as Detective Williams. Why are you interested, Agent Queen?" Max remained composed despite the agitated situation.  
She sighed in resignation and slapped her hands helplessly against her hips. "I can't figure the Commander out."  
"Don't drive yourself crazy, I won't until today."  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Steve slumped a hand against the outside wall of the hospital. Every muscle in his body was tense and his other hand was clenched into a fist. He wanted most of all to take out his anger on a punching bag. It took every ounce of strength he had not to turn around and knock every tooth out of Angela's mouth. That defiant, presumptuous look on her young face had become too much for him. She was still green behind the ears. Yes, she had lost her partner in such a cruel way, he fully understood that, but the way she had questioned him, as if she wanted him to tell her that HE was Hakim, made him furious.  
The reason he had not put his wish into action was that he could understand her. She was desperate for someone to blame. Someone with a name and a face about whom she could say that he was Hakim and had Dennis on his conscience. With the same With determination he had chased Hesse, with the only difference that he had chased not just a phantom, but a man of flesh and blood.  
Danny had called him crazy when they had shot at the freighter with the patrol car and his partner had been right. At that moment Steve had seen red. He knew and wanted so badly that Victor was still on the container ship that he had forgotten all his caution and common sense. At that moment he had wanted only one thing: revenge for his slain father!  
With the supposed death of the murderer, he had felt no better. The hope of justice and revenge had never materialised. It had not made his father alive, nor had it made himself a better person. Steve had become a cold-blooded killer. Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't have shot Victor ... it had been a relief when Hesse had risen from the dead so unexpectedly. But it still hadn't undone the deed at the harbour.  
"Neanderthal beastie?" a soft, masculine voice sounded behind him, bringing him back to the present so unexpectedly. Steve let go of some of his tension and when Danny put his hand on his back, the rest fell away from him.


	5. Crazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lte Upadet but we had a lot of snow in the last two days and our wifi broke down. Also I wasn´t able to sit on my computer

from him. He relaxed his fist and released his arm from the wall of the house.  
Suddenly the detective's dark blue eyes appeared in front of him in his field of vision and grounded him. "Will you drive me home, please?" asked Steve in a suffering voice.  
Questioningly, Danny tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "What's wrong, Steve?"  
"I want to talk about this at home. Not here. In public."  
Danny understood. Steve needed a shoulder to lean on. Protection and security. Something Danny could only give him within their protective four walls. Briefly he glanced at his watch. "Gracie gets off school in two hours. Let's call it a night. There had been enough excitement in the day."  
Steve's mind was so hard-wired to get into his protective four walls that he didn't even pick up the tossed chunk to discuss with Danny that he was the boss. This fact made it abundantly clear to the blond Jersey cop that Steve was mentally on his last legs.  
Together they walked over to the car park.  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

With what seemed like rediscovered cheerfulness in the kitchen cupboard, Danny balanced two plates across to the living room and placed them on the table. Hot steam rose from fully loaded portions of penne á la Danno, spreading a fragrance that would make even the biggest critic's mouth water.  
Steve sat by the sofa and stared absently into nothingness. Too many thoughts and emotions swirled around in his head and wouldn't let him go. Nonstop he tried to find a plausible explanation how Hakim could survive. How had this sadistic bastard managed to escape? Why was he back? Why Hawaii of all places? Did this horror ever end? Was there even a life left without this fear?  
"Steve? Dinner's ready," Danny tried to bring his partner out of his thoughts and put his hand on his thigh. Startled, Steve winced and wrenched his eyes open until his vision cleared and he realised he was home and Danny was with him.  
With troubled, worried feelings, the blond cop sat beside him, wishing he could help. He felt as if someone had taken Steve and replaced him during the time Danny had been away with Grace. He was so completely different. Thoughtful. Closed off. Jumpy. Anxious. Often not in the here and now. Irritable. Hurt.  
Not wanting to let him fall back into that state, Danny quickly pointed to the plates. "Food," he commented redundantly.  
Steve thanked him and reached for the cutlery with deliberate movements. While Danny shovelled the first forks into himself as if he were on the verge of starvation, Steve ate very slowly, shoveling only a few noodles into his mouth at a time. Silence was paramount at this point.  
Although Danny normally liked to talk a lot without a full stop, today for once he couldn't find any words to share with his partner. Steve was more than grateful for that and devoted himself to his eternally circling ruminations. Massoud was alive, he was here in Hawaii, just a stone's throw away. Within reach and Steve was sitting on the sofa cheating on him with his partner.  
It had not been a plantonian friendship he had had with Massoud. They had grown closer to each other and fallen in love. The fact that Hakim had captured them both and tortured Massoud in front of Steve's eyes was to further punish the soldier in that the Koran saw it forbidden by Sunnis and Shiites to have a same-sex partner. to have. It was one of the supreme insults to Allah and the Prophet Mohamed. Seeing his friend tortured, hurt and tormented had done far more to Steve psychologically than Hakim had ever managed with all his physical acts. Steve had entered into this relationship even though he knew about this prohibition. And it was not only the Koran that forbade such relationships. The US military had not liked it then either. As long as everyone involved kept quiet about their inclinations and relationships, no one was dishonourably discharged from the service. While this had changed shortly after Steve's transfer to the reserves, it was still ingrained in his thinking. And this was the biggest reason why he kept his relationships with Danny private. Although it was completely irrelevant, he was afraid that someone could find out and harm him.  
All these reasons and causes made Steve analyse his life at that moment.  
Steve had long since lowered his fork. He put it aside and pushed the plate away from him, the portion of which he had barely touched. Danny had already finished eating and was eyeing him closely. "You have to eat something, Steve," he admonished his friend.  
The man shook his head. "Not hungry. This thing has upset my stomach."  
Steve rested his arm on the back of the sofa and rubbed his temples massagingly with his other hand. A subliminal headache. How he hated them. Steve stood up and turned towards the upstairs. "Excuse me a moment, I'll be right back."  
There was something he hadn't touched in years. Often he hadn't needed it, but now was a good time. Determined, Steve went into the bathroom and opened the mirrored cabinet where there was an orange pillbox with a white lid. It was by no means a harmless painkiller for a headache. When he had been undergoing treatment for his pronounced PTSD - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - he was supposed to take this medication when none of the other ways helped against his psychoses. Steve had been far too stubborn a person to be under the illusion that medication was the solution. Today he saw things a little differently. How was he supposed to face his fear when it could take on unknown proportions? It had been easier then.  
Massoud was dead and didn't have to suffer any more pain, and Hakim was also dead and couldn't torment him any further. Full stop.  
And now?  
Hakim was alive and here in Hawaii. Massoud was also alive and on the island. They had come together in one place. Panic rose in Steve that it would all happen again. A love affair, a cold-blooded torturer and pangs of loss.  
To escape the icy thought world he reached for the pills and popped one. Only briefly did he look at himself in the mirror. Worn out, tired and feeling years older. As he put the can back in the cupboard, Danny appeared in the doorway. Curious and concerned at the same time.  
He bridged the distance between them and wrapped his arms tenderly around Steve's strong chest. He leaned his head against Steve's broad cross. "I love you," it escaped from his heart.  
Steve smiled. Those words did so much good. Tried to heal a part of his wounded soul. The previously scarred wounds had broken open and were bleeding. "Thank you."  
"For what?" asked Danny in wonder. Steve could see him raising his eyebrows even though he was standing behind him.  
"For being there for me. I'm not alone. That feels good. Thank you."  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Steve was lying on his back on the sofa and had put his arms over his eyes. Thanks to the psychotropic drug, the thoughts had become fewer and no longer made him rush around in circles like a headless bunny. He had thus nipped the first hint of a panic attack in the bud. Until the day before yesterday, Steve had believed that he had overcome this terrible experience in the Hindu Kush. To have left all the pain and nightmares behind him. To go about his life free of survivor's guilt. To look forward with Danny and try again. He loved Grace, didn't want to have to miss her and her father again.  
And then this moment. That chance encounter. The moment he saw Massoud. His whole life that he had built up so far had collapsed like a house of cards and was set back years. He saw himself back in Afghanistan. In the village, in the tunnels. Later in hospital and rehab. Accompanied by a psychologist. The system tried to catch him and give him a way back to civilisation, even if this effort had been quite self-serving for the military - they wanted their soldier back fit for action. Steve could understand them and had been grateful to them too.  
While he was thinking about all these things with an unaccustomed calm, the front door opened and Danny returned from school with Grace. With a thrilled expression to see her second dad and uncle, she ran to the sofa and hugged the tired and just sitting up Steve. It felt incredibly good to be able to hold the girl. He hugged her to him and for a moment didn't think about all the things that were weighing him down.  
"How was school?" he wanted to know lovingly from her. Grace broke away from the embrace and brushed a brunette strand behind her ear. "Okay enough, but way too long."  
Gently, Steve stroked her hair. The girl was so pretty and had managed to be happy even though her parents lived apart and loved to argue when they met. It was not uncommon for them to argue on their mobile phones or through lawyers.  
"Don't you have a case, Uncle Steve?", Grace curiously wanted to know why their fathers were both home at this early hour.  
Steve smiled and shook his head. "Even gangsters seem to have learned that Five-0 wants the day off."  
Danny raised his eyebrows sceptically but said nothing. Apparently Steve wanted to keep little Grace away from the gruesome case as long as he could. Agreeing, Danny nodded and gave Steve the okay that he wouldn't say anything either.  
"Grace, there's some food in the kitchen. Will you finish your homework then?" her father asked with a slight sternness in his voice. The girl broke away from her favourite uncle and nodded. "Yes, Danno."  
He sat down on the armchair, besieging only the far edge. Nervously, one foot bobbed up and down. Danny propped his elbows on his knees and placed his palms together. Leaning forward only slightly, Danny glanced briefly at Steve. The commander knew this position for a quick escape from Danny very well. He had stood there as well when it had slipped from the detective's lips in a nervous, trembling voice that he was in love with Steve and had feelings for the stubborn ass of a Navy SEAL. His friend rested his arms on the back of the chair and waited to see what might come next, what was so burning on the detective's mind.  
"I ... well ... Grace and I ... we," Danny stuttered to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose nervously before taking a deep breath and starting again. He forced himself to look Steve in the unfathomable but beautiful eyes. "I've decided to sell my house."  
Puzzled by the detective's words, Steve raised his eyebrows questioningly. Only slightly did the steep crease between his eyes, but more out of concern than anger. "But why? I thought you loved your house after fighting for it for so long ..."  
"Do you know the last time I was there? Earlier after I picked Grace up to empty the overflowing mailbox and before the holiday I only went there for little things. We already live with you most of the time anyway and Grace got her own room here. And we can save the double costs by me selling the house. I want to spend my life fully with you and not do things by halves."  
Steve slapped his hands over his face. "This ... this is ... wow. Danno, this ... this fills me with pride. Honestly. I'm ... speechless." He had expected anything but Danny's offer to get rid of his house and be close to Steve 24/7, with no way to retreat should the SEAL get on his nerves. Danny had also felt lonely in Newark and Grace had told him today that she no longer liked Danny's house but loved her new room.  
"And whether I pick you up at home or we went to the Palace from the same place, it won't be noticed anyway," Danny also argued the point of secrecy to get Steve to agree.  
The Commander nodded slowly. Then a smile crossed his lips. "What did I ever do to deserve you, banger, Danno?", Steve asked a rhetorical question to which there was to be no answer. But his friend was of a different persuasion. With a grin he quipped, "Badass to soldier, actually the question should be the other way around!"  
Heartily, Steve laughed. However, Danny noticed something in Steve's eyes that sent a chill down his spine. As much as his partner was happy to accept the distraction and was feeling much better thanks to the medication, he was still agitated and shaken inside. Hakim didn't want to let him go.  
"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Danny straight out, continuing to look at Steve with concern.  
Absently Steve nodded as he struggled to get rid of the thoughts that were getting stronger. "I wasn't Hakim's prisoner for all those months. After I fought off the Taliban, I fell down a steep slope. I must have hit my head then, because the next thing I knew I woke up in a small house in the village," Steve told me in a firm voice. Maybe it would help to talk a little about the beautiful moments than to be haunted by Hakim's torture methods.  
"Massoud's home, I would guess?" asked Danny thoughtfully.  
Steve nodded, signalling to him that he was right. The thought of the young, slightly nervous man waiting for Steve to wake up. A joyful tingle grew stronger in his stomach. "Massoud tended to the wounds I sustained and made sure my fever went down. He kept instilling soup in me to keep my strength up and keep me hydrated. I woke up in his house a few days after the fall. He was so loving and kind to me. At that time, neither he knew my language nor I knew a single bit of Pashto. With a lot of patience, he taught me. Thanks to him, I speak this language fluently. With the weeks I spent with him, watching the snow grow higher outside the window, I became friends with him and discovered unknown feelings. He had them too and soon our thing became more."  
A smile crept onto Steve's lips that was old and took him back to far forgotten, beautiful moments. It was that smile that brought to your lips memories you had thought forgotten and flooded your body with happy hormones. Danny knew that feeling very well. Yet he was an impatient listener. "And then, how did you fall into Hakim's hands?"  
Steve lifted his gaze, the long, thick lashes bringing the detective round every time. Mind. How could a guy like McGarrett have such full lashes? "I suspect that Hakim wasn't in the village at all at the time my team was sent to track him down. One day the Taliban kicked down the door and tried to take me away. But Massoud bravely stood in front of me."  
Memories he had thought forgotten surfaced from his subconscious. They flooded his mind and forced themselves upon him, literally screaming to be told. He collected himself so Danny wouldn't notice his emotional state. "Massoud was unarmed and shouting at the men in Pashto to leave. That they were not taking his friend away from him. They beat Massoud. One of them pushed past him ... and grabbed me ..." Steve's voice quietened and the memories came back to him. Roughly, the Taliban fighter grabbed Steve's upper arm and dragged him ungently out of bed. His injured shoulder made itself known and his broken pelvis felt no better. Stricken, he was brought to his knees and a gun pressed into his neck. "Death to the infidel!" the fighter hissed in Pashto. The metal of the weapon pressed harder into his neck. Steve was paralysed with terror. Sounds of fighting grew louder, someone moaned. The Taliban wheeled around, dragging Steve with him. He cried out, from the hot pain in his pelvis where the bones shifted, it shot through his marrow. He felt nauseous and momentarily his vision became cloudy. Still the man threatened him with the gun in his neck. He would have zero chance if the guy pulled the trigger. Someone unlocked a gun with a bright click and Steve thought the last straw was breaking. He squinted and waited to be killed. A bang ripped through the tense air in the room, someone groaned and then Steve slumped. Muffled, he hit the floor. Was he dead? "Brother?" That was Massoud's voice. Had they both died? Warm, sweaty, trembling fingers brushed through his hair. "Brother, speak to me!" Only slowly did the pain of his healed injuries ebb away. Cautiously, Steve opened his eyes and the veil obstructing his vision tenaciously disappeared. The small house and the icy blue eyes crystallised before Steve. Relieved, Steve clung to him. "They're gone, no one's hurting you anymore," Massoud gave out of breath and with a tremble. Gently, he was still stroking his hair. Slowly Steve realised what had happened. Massoud had killed the fighters to save his lover's life. "This is going to hurt," Massoud muttered apologetically, grabbing Steve by the waist. A fierce cry of pain escaped the SEAL's lips. Massoud had brought the displaced bones back into their proper position. However, the pain was so intense that he rolled his eyes dangerously and slumped away in Massoud's arms.  
A sharp jerk on Steve's shoulder and a slightly panicked voice that was familiar, yet impossible to sort out, made him come to. The images before his eyes faded. The words were unfamiliar, yet familiar, until Steve soberly realised they were English. No Pashto. The pain in his pelvis just an echo and phantom of a forgotten old time. Steve was shivering all over and cold. Warm hands lay against his cheek and slowly his gaze cleared. Blue eyes. Dark. Danny ... Danno! Steve's eyes snapped open. He was home. Hawaii. Home. "Yeah, that's it, Steve, come on, nice and come back to you. Look at me. You're home. Safe. Far away from Afghanistan. I'm here," the detective stammered, overwhelmed, not quite sure himself what all he was saying. He might as well have told the Commander his grandmother's secret recipe for apple strudel, so much was the cop beside himself too.  
"Danny?" breathed Steve in confusion.  
A broad, relieved smile spread across his face.

his face. "Ah, there he is again! Don't you ever scare me like that again, do you hear me?"  
"W-what ... why?" asked Steve, confused. Everything had fallen into chaos. Such unending chaos. His perception had shifted. Confusion, memory, present, fear and pain. Hopelessness. But most of all he felt fear. Fear of reliving the horror again.  
Danny put a hand on the back of Steve's neck and pulled the commander close to him, who was lying lopsided and slouched half on the sofa. Only quietly did he give him an answer: "Your gaze went blank. You fell silent in the middle of a sentence and then only shouted incomprehensibly. That wasn't English. It was a lot of work to bring you back to the here and now. And you were screaming like someone was ripping your liver out alive!"  
"I ... I ..." Steve abruptly broke off his sentence. They were back. The flashbacks had caught up with him. Brought back moments of his captivity. He was there again, in the mountains. Alone with a forbidden love. He was tormented, in pain and powerless. He could do nothing to escape it. Why? Why? Why him of all people? One stab in the spinal cord and he would have been redeemed, why this fuss? Steve was confused, so infinitely confused. The world in chaos. But the real agony was yet to come. In the night. When Hakim had taken him and Massoud. The personal hell only began there. But it had started in the mountains. When he protected his team with his life and sent them to the camp.  
Every muscle in his body trembled. He quivered from the tip of his hair to the smallest toe and Danny pressed him against him as if he were a tormented little child. Gently, the detective cradled him, giving him protection and security. Safety. A refuge from evil spirits.  
"Daddy?" a small squeaky voice asked from the top of the stairs. Steve searched for the spot and found little Gracie clinging to the banister. The girl was as white as a sheet and staring at her fathers. Never in her life had Grace said that word. She only ever called her father Danno.  
"Grace!" sobbed Steve, reaching out to her. As fast as her feet could carry the twelve-year-old, she ran down the stairs and fell around Steve's neck. Tightly she pressed herself against both men. "What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked tearfully.  
Only now did Steve realise that the girl was calling him that. She wasn't calling him Uncle Steve anymore. She had adopted him as her father. And that made him cry even harder. It was an honour, but a shock that Grace did it through such a stressful and shocking situation.


	6. Chapter 6

Sluggish thoughts he couldn't control flowed through Steve's brain, making it feel as if it were cast in epoxy resin. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. His surroundings were blurred, the light had dimmed in an unusual way. The shadows had become shapeless blotches and something shone. His entire body was processing his thoughts very slowly and the coordination of his muscles was also delayed. What was that? he formulated the question in his head, but the answer came very slowly that he had no idea.  
Only gradually did it sink in that his arms were stretched upwards and he seemed to be hanging from the ceiling with his full weight. Where was he? As his eyes wandered lazily around the room, he swayed along, causing him to feel uncomfortable. Steve had to close his eyes for a moment so that the dizziness would subside and his stomach would not rebel. He leaned his head unceremoniously against an arm and as soon as his body had calmed down, he opened his eyes. His vision had become a little clearer, but still everything felt like it was wrapped in cotton wool. There was rock and the flickering light of torches bathed the room in dancing shadows. A dark, narrow hole led out. Curious, and with gingerly movements, he laid his head on the back of his neck.  
His wrists had been expertly wrapped several times with dark leather straps and an iron chain hung down from the ceiling to which his hands were attached. Whatever was causing his body to behave so strangely also seemed to block out most of the pain.  
Sounds, muffled and loud at the same time, suddenly appeared and made Steve jerk his eyes towards the hole, causing his field of vision to rotate and he felt an unpleasant stab in his head and stomach. A figure, dressed in a black tunic and a turban wrapped so tightly around his head that nothing but the black beady eyes remained, emerged from the darkness and dragged a man beside him. This one wore scuffed everyday clothes, was barefoot and had welts and blood on his arms. He had been bound with rope and the black figure's hand clawed ironically into his neck so that the man could only stumble forward hunched over. Brutally, he was thrown into the room and could barely catch himself. Shaking and frightened, he landed at Steve's feet. Only now did the commander soberly realise that apart from his army trousers, he no longer had a single item of clothing on his body - apart from his metal dog tags in which his name, blood type, troop and national insurance number were stamped.  
The man at his feet turned his head just slightly and pure fear flashed through Steve as he spotted the ice-blue eyes. It was Massoud, lying on the ground, also a prisoner. Ignoring his current physical state, Steve jerked his head up and stared at the black-clad man still standing menacingly in the doorway. Their torturer. Hakim?  
Steve felt uncomfortable and groaned. This made the man continue and step towards Massoud. "Hands off!", Steve growled at him in Pashto. Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. The man just stared at him dumbly and grabbed the back of Massoud's neck to pull him up. Steve yanked angrily at his chains. He wanted to kill him for it, but the man took Massoud to another chain and tied him there. "Steve," the Afghan admonished him in a tired voice. He was obviously exhausted and exhausted. To his horror, he discovered a cut on Massoud's side.  
The silent man took a syringe out of his pocket and looked for a vein to inject the drug into Steve. It felt cold as it spread from the injection site. He felt woozy in the head and the pain lessened. The situation became indifferent.  
Drugs ...

With a jolt, Steve rode up from his sleep. His heart pounded wildly against his throat and for a moment he feared that the cocktail was affecting his senses. But nothing of the sort happened. On his retinas the terrifying images of his rude awakening in the tunnel faded. The place he had never left until his liberation. Tortured, humiliated and filled with endless hopelessness.  
A furry feeling settled on his tongue and his stomach rebelled. Steve could only react instinctively as he was already vomiting. He violently vomited on the floor next to the bed and hung in the bed with trembling arms. This was too much for his body. The whole time of the torture he had been on drugs, which was why only fragments remained. He remembered aches and pains all over his body. Such fine pains that burned themselves into his brain despite the drugs. At some point, even the drugs couldn't completely stop it and he felt his shoulder burning like hell and there was no relief. He had absolutely no idea any more whether he had always been dangling from the ceiling or not. There was Massoud, who was tortured, they gave each other courage, made plans to escape. There had also been times when Steve had been alone and at the mercy of his tormentor's brutal violence. He had to endure Massoud being brutally tortured. Not once did their tormentor utter a word. As if he either could not speak or did not want to interact with inferior cattle. The pain and torture were his means of communication and it was brutal and merciless.  
He felt the pain on his skin as if his tormentor was back. Loudly Steve screamed and lashed out. Tried to get a grip on him and had lost touch with reality. He kicked with all his might.  
Suddenly a light flashed and hands tried to hold him down, but McGarrett was full of panic. He hit the one with his elbow in the chest and struggled to hold on. Like a tormented animal, Steve escaped from the bed and ran. Seeking a foothold as the room spun, he grabbed the wall of the hallway before grabbing the stair railing and stopping abruptly. The very familiar living room hit him so suddenly that Steve slumped on the spot.  
He was home! Damn it! He was home!  
"Danny!" he brought to his lips in horror. "I'm so sorry!" He hadn't meant to. Staggering, Steve got up and ran to the bathroom. Saving it as if it were his anchor, he reached into the cupboard and took another pill. He hadn't meant to do that. Never. This was unforgivable. He had attacked Danny when the latter had only wanted to help him. With a focused gaze, he stared at the pillbox. 'Dr. S. Hiller' was written in clear black letters among other data on the label.  
Cautious footsteps approached and Danny emerged in the doorway rubbing his aching chest where Steve's elbow had hit him hard. Slightly short of breath, he stood there glaring at the SEAL.  
Neither of them spoke a word as they looked into each other's eyes. They didn't have to talk to understand each other either.  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

It was inconceivable to Steve that he was arguing with Danny for the first time in their relationship over Hakim, of all people. It had gotten loud and Steve almost slipped his hand towards his partner. Before he did something he later more than regretted, he had presented Danny with a fait accompli and driven away. Alone.  
After his nightmare in the night, they had stayed up late talking about trivial things before falling asleep snuggled close together. With the ringing of the alarm clock, the night had been over for both of them. The morning routine without Steve's workout had begun. When Steve had voiced going to the base, they had gotten into an argument because Danny had insisted with an icy insistence that Steve should not be out on his own without a bodyguard. The argument that Hakim would also kidnap him with a hundred escorts and that he would kill anyone who stood in his way had not caused Danny sufficient understanding. So Steve had no choice but to get into the pick-up and drive off.  
With Danny, it was often the best decision to simply present him with a fait accompli than to argue with him for hours.  
About an hour after their argument, Steve was walking the corridors of the therapy centre at Pearl Harbor Hickam Air Base, looking for a good friend. He slowed down when he saw an open door at the end of the hallway with a small group of patients sitting in the room listening to the therapist's words. Quietly, a couple of dogs lay beside him, intently following the emotions.  
"Jericho!", Steve called loudly and a beige Belgian Shepherd first moved his ear before turning his head and looking for the person who had called him. Steve, meanwhile, crouched down and waited for the dog's reaction. Jericho had helped the Commander get over his PTSD years ago and Steve had visited him often in recent years. His parents had been trained military dogs, but his nature had been far too friendly, which was why he had become a therapy dog for soldiers. He had met Jericho when he was two years old and now the dog was twelve and had been plagued with athrosis for several months. But there was pure joy of life in his eyes and he showed the puppies their task.  
Now, however, called by an old and long-time friend, Jericho, despite his rather stiff joints, shot up and ran towards the commander, whimpering loudly. A beige thirty kilo ball, he leapt into the man's open arms and lapped at him whimpering everywhere he could just catch Steve. His rod was wagging like crazy and had thrown the Commander on his butt from the force of his leap.  
Tightly, Steve wrapped his arms around the dog and laughed with reunion joy before his emotions tipped and he buried his hands in the fluffy fur. "He's back, Jericho. Hakim is back, my old friend. I've missed you so much. Why is life so hard? Why can't it leave me in peace?" he asked the dog, who pressed his head against his chest in reply. Sometimes it would be better if life were a wish concert, then he would have wished Hakim and his atrocities on another planet. Hard, Steve gripped deeper into Jericho's fur and cried like a castle dog. Encouragingly and tenderly, the dog licked the tears from his cheeks. This gesture was so touching that Steve could not stop crying.  
The therapist and owner of Jericho had long since stood in the doorway and behind him the traumatised soldiers gathered, silently watching the spectacle of Jericho comforting an old patient of his. "Steve? Steve McGarrett?" the man asked cautiously, unsure if he had recognised him correctly.  
At his voice, Steve lifted his head. "Hello James. I'd need Jericho's help. It's all come back. I can't do this on my own. Not without Jericho."  
James nodded and apologised to his patients. Slowly he stepped towards the Commander and squatted down. Gently, he placed a hand on his knee. "What's wrong?"  
"Flashbacks and nightmares. They won't leave me alone."  
Sceptically, James raised an eyebrow and took his mobile phone out of his pocket. Without telling the commander, he dialled a number. "Doc, Steve's here. He's had a relapse."  
After hearing his interlocutor's reply, he hung up. "Hiller's on his way."  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

A short time later, Steve was sitting in a cosy little room and Jericho pressed his body tightly against his leg so he wouldn't be alone. Reassuringly, he stroked the dog's soft, shiny fur. Sitting loosely in front of him was a wiry-built middle-aged man. His hair was dark, as was the shadow of his beard. His eyes were kind and held much knowledge. In a calm voice he began to speak. "What happened? Why have you suddenly had a relapse of your PTSD after so many years?"  
Steve didn't have to explain much. He lowered his head and looked firmly at Jericho. "Because I can't control my fear anymore. It's not working anymore."  
"Hakim can't hurt you anymore. He's dead. And that's why you can conquer your fear and control it," he gently reminded Steve of the things he had discussed and trained with him.  
Apparently the military had neglected to tell Sebastian anything about Hakim's return. He was as much thrown into the open as Steve.  
Determined, the SEAL shook his head. The military had left him alone to his fate. Again. History was repeating itself. No one had saved him from the Taliban then, any more than he had been warned hor Hakim today. If he had known, he could have worked with it and worked on not going crazy. Instead, he was allowed to find out at a crime scene. Should he be surprised? As a reservist, he was of no use to the military. He was not an active soldier taking part in missions.  
"Steve, only if you tell me what happened can I help you," the psychologist abruptly brought him out of his thoughts. Grateful to be interrupted before chaos took over, he looked at Sebastian. "Hakim is alive."  
Shock was clearly reflected in his counterpart's face that Steve felt confirmed that the military no longer cared about Steve. This bitter disappointment weighed heavily in his chest. So why were they still feigning interest in him?  
"Oh fuck ...", Sebastian muttered as the full implications dawned on him. Learning that the man who had tortured you was still alive was a good reason for even a tough soldier to go crazy. In calm words, Sebastian asked him various questions to find out how bad and all that had already happened. Honestly and with a hard inner struggle, Steve told him about the last two days that had thrown everything into chaos.  
But eventually the memories got worse and he gripped his head with a groan. He rocked back and forth and tried to regain his senses and thoughts by controlling his breathing. To support Steve, Jericho put his head on his knee.  
Sebastian, meanwhile, reached for a piece of paper and noted down a few points that had caught his eye. This shock had thrown Steve back to the beginning. To the point when he had woken up in the hospital and realised that all hell had broken loose. At first it had all been Shiny, but then the memories and flashbacks and the loss of a loved one had come crashing down on him. Steve had almost been broken by it if he hadn't met Jericho. Until then, Steve had only opened up to his psychologist in tiny steps. "Where have you been?" asked Angela muggingly, as soon as Steve stuck a tip of his nose into the Task Force premises. In his mind he was still mulling over the words and suggestions of his psychologist. He had been advised by his psychologist to deliberately join the search for Hakim because it would do him more good than twiddling his thumbs at home and having a serious panic attack. At the task force, he could direct his focus on the hunt for the man and control his fear. There, he had it in his hands how much he let Hakim get to him.  
Part of his psychologist's recommendation, however, was not to justify himself to the CIA agent. With his most saccharine smile, he gave her an answer she didn't want to hear: "You know, Angela, I felt a great urge to wander the island's shopping malls today and unwind."  
Clearly Steve saw the disbelief in her eyes, which was why he grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. Lowering his voice dangerously, he hissed, "You're welcome to help us capture Hakim, but anything beyond that, you don't need to know. Understood?"  
Only slightly, the woman nodded, fearing she would upset the man even more if she didn't. Steve let go of her and walked past her to his team. "What do we have so far?" he wanted to know from them.  
Chin and Kono looked at each other briefly in question and Danny eyed him warily to make sure he was all right. The detective hadn't forgotten the argument at the house. Grace had grilled him about Daddy on the way to school. Now that his girl didn't say 'Uncle Steve' anymore, it wouldn't be so easy to keep their relationship a secret.  
"Ahmed Kasani is from Saudi Arabia and is the member of a small Muslim community on the island. We couldn't find out much about him. He lives alone and has a job as a painter. However, one of his work colleagues was able to tell us that Kasani had a fight with someone after work. It was about a woman named Yasemin. We are still looking for her in his environment," Kono informed her boss.  
He turned to his partner. "Danny, you and I will pay a visit to the pub. Maybe they can help us find out who Yasemin is."  
Angela folded her arms in front of her chest. "And what about Hakim?" she wanted him to ask.  
"Isn't that why you came here, Angela? Shoo, go find him already," Steve growled, slightly miffed that she had discreetly stepped on his left nut with her heel. Danny was already standing patiently by the door waiting for the commander.  
Together the investigators left the headquarters and walked down to the car parks. "We need to talk, Steve," Danny indicated to him.  
Steve furrowed his brow darkly. He would not budge from his opinion in the morning. "I'm not risking the lives of our police officers. Period."  
However, the detective shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean, Steve. We need to talk about Grace and our relationship."  
By now they had reached the sports car and got in. Snarling, it started up and Steve deftly drove it out of the parking space.  
The commander's neck was constricted in an unnatural way. He gripped the Camaro's steering wheel tighter and stared silently at the road. Would Danny now terminate his friendship? End their relationship just because Steve was a stubborn ass and had scared Grace with it?  
He almost overheard Danny's words. "Now that Grace calls you 'Daddy', we can't keep it a secret that we're a couple. I've always accepted your motives so far and got it sooner through Hakim, but thanks to Grace, we have to make it official after all."  
Against all expectations Danny had imagined, Steve abruptly started laughing. This amused laughter absolutely did not match Steve's current emotional mood with Hakim. His friend stared at him in amazement. He had not expected this outcome. "What's so funny about that?"  
"I didn't think Grace would make sure we let the cat out of the bag, that's all, Danno," Steve gave him the honest answer to his question.  
Danny exhaled with relief. He had expected anything in this conversation except Steve's agreement and even more surprising good humour. The trip to the psychologist had obviously moved Steve far more than Danny had thought possible. "So you're okay with this?" he asked him cautiously, still thinking he was dreaming or had misheard.  
Briefly, Steve took his eyes off the road and gave Danny his full attention. "Yes. I need to show Hakim that he can't attack me. Then I should also show him that I won't let him stop me from being happy with a man. And before you ask, Danny, yes, talking to my psychologist did me good. He encouraged me in many ways and told me to face my fear."  
"I should have sent you to that man earlier, maybe then you wouldn't be such a whacked out SEAL!" grumbled Danny, amused.  
Steve only minimally screwed up his face. "Don't ruin this good moment with things like this, please."  
"Why not?" raked in Danny, loving to shoo the commander to the point.  
Steve worked with iron discipline not to snap at Danny. In a calm, icy voice he replied, "You're worse than Grace. She knows when she's crossed a line. She must obviously get that from her mother, because you're worse than a leaf blower with a candle in a flour factory!" Towards the end, his voice increased.  
"I'm sorry ..." muttered Danny ruefully.  
Again Steve stared at him in wonder. He didn't know his partner like this. "What's going on?"  
"This whole case, Steve ... it's taking a lot out of me. A crazed lunatic is hunting down his own countrymen and has also been torturing my partner for months. That should take me too, shouldn't it?"  
Steve placed a hand on his thigh affectionately as he drove and smiled warmly. "Yes, of course it is, Danny. You have every right to. No one asked you to put this away, like an ice-cold block of ice. I'm upset about it too. I'd thought I'd put that part of my past behind me until now, and with a snap of my fingers, all those ghosts have come to life."  
⍟ ❀ ⍟ ❀ ⍟

Steve eyed the small bar behind which they had found Ahmed Kasani's body. It was small and inconspicuous. On normal days, Steve would not have noticed it, even though it served unusual specialities by Hawaiian standards. In addition to shawarma and shish tavuk, there were also pickled vine leaves, falaffles and kibbeh. For dessert, there was baklava in various variations and freshly prepared ayran with garlic to drink. All dishes that were part of the daily menu in Syria and the other countries of the Middle East.  
While Danny studied the menu with a furrowed brow, wondering if even one of the dishes was edible, Steve approached a petite woman wearing a headscarf who was wiping the counter. There were hardly any customers at this early hour, which made it all the more unusual that two Americans entered the shop. Their badges were clearly visible on their hips.  
"May I bother you, ma'am?", Steve politely asked the woman, waiting for an answer.  
She paused in her work and looked at him. A shiner adorned her pretty face and her eyes were reddish. "What do you want?" she hissed slightly disgruntled with suspicion in her voice.  
"Five-0, I'm Commander McGarrett and this is my partner Detective Williams. We're here about Ahmed Kasani. We've been told there was an altercation outside the pub before he died. He was arguing over a woman named Yasemin," Steve began to explain his concern.  
The woman quickly turned away from him and threw the rag on the counter. "Amir!" the woman called out loudly, waiting for the man in question to appear. "The cops are here for Ahmed."  
The man was considerably older than the woman, which was why Steve wasn't sure what their relationship was. Quite quickly she pulled away. The man briefly put his hand on her shoulder, giving her strength. "I'm the owner of the shop. What do you want to know?"  
"What was the argument about?" asked Danny immediately, standing beside his partner with his arms folded.  
The man sighed. "Well, you could already see the result. Yasemin is my niece and was with Ahmed, but he has a rather fanatical view of the Koran and wanted to forbid her to continue working for me. It came to an argument and he hit her. However, one of my guests intervened and threw Ahmed out the door with very unkind words before I could beat the crap out of him."  
Steve raised his eyebrows just slightly. "Can you describe the man who helped your niece?" he asked kindly.  
"He was in my shop for the first time. But I will always remember his eyes. They were an unusually bright blue for one of my countrymen," the man described him.  
Steve and Danny exchanged a brief knowing glance. Apparently Massoud had intervened in the argument. "What other guests were here?"  
The man shrugged. "A few regulars and the rest were walk-ins. I don't remember every face. Do you think one of my guests killed Ahmed?"  
"We're not allowed to talk about ongoing investigations," came automatically from Steve's mouth.  
The man nodded briefly. "So one of my guests ... if you find out who did it, would you pass on my thanks to him?"  
Danny stared at the shopkeeper, aghast. "The guy cruelly tortured and then killed the man. To add insult to injury, he pinned him to the back wall of your establishment! And you want to thank the psychopath?!"  
"Obviously you have no idea about our culture. We did not flee our homeland out of joy, but because we fled Assad's henchmen there because they hunt our community bitterly. In their eyes, we defile the writings of the Koran, though their own mullahs scribble with glee in the holy scripture as they please."  
Knowingly, Steve nodded and put a hand on Danny's shoulder reassuringly that it was all right. With his other hand he produced a business card and handed it to the man. "If you think of anything else, please get in touch. We thank you very much for your help."  
"Always happy to. But I am not saddened by Ahmed's death. It was a just punishment from Allah," the man grumbled.  
Before he could turn to his cooking, however, Danny blurted out, "Vigilante justice is illegal in America, too. Hawaii doesn't need a self-appointed avenger!"  
"You should urgently ask your partner about the history of our community before you judge someone you don't know. Have a nice day!" the man's voice was cutting and sharp. Before the Jersey cop could tease the man any further, Steve gently pushed him out of the shop.  
"Can't you keep your mouth shut for once when it's appropriate?", Steve hissed at him unkindly. But Danny was still upset. "How can you sympathise with that man? It just goes to show time and time again that all these Islamists are nuts!"  
"Danny!", Steve snapped at him sharply, "These are Muslims, not Islamists. The latter persecute such people who want to sit in this pub or go about their business in peace. Islamists destroy old cultural assets, make children kill soldiers or kill a lot of innocent people with their suicide attacks! The owner of the restaurant belongs to the Ismailis, who are persecuted in their home countries because, unlike Sunnis and Shiites, they follow their Koran without having changed it in the last centuries. This does not suit the other faiths and that is why they are persecuted and killed. They do not show themselves openly for fear of being persecuted in the same way in their new homeland. Worldwide, there are not many followers of this ancient faith."  
It was clear to the commander that not much was left before he exploded. His veins throbbed dangerously on his forehead, causing Danny to change his tone significantly. "And what was the man getting at then?"  
"Contrary to the Islamic State's claim, the Ismailis are directly descended from the Assassins who, in the days of the Crusades, took out a lot of people who were a thorn in their side. Even though most of the writings and records are from the hand and view of the Crusaders and have berated this community as cold-blooded murderers, Assassins were actually the forerunner of our present police force and brought justice where good coaxing failed. They referred to themselves as 'Wasi', which translated from Arabic means 'guardians'."  
Perplexed, Danny stared at his partner, flabbergasted. Very often Steve surprised him. "So why doesn't anyone know about it? And why do you know so much about it?"  
"Unlike many others, I deal with foreign cultures and had not only been stationed in the Middle East once. Therefore I have a slightly different connection to the legends and myths. And besides, we now know that Hakim is an Ismaili. He was there in the pub and overheard the argument."  
Danny, however, was puzzled by something else the man had said. A fact that caused an uneasy feeling in his gut. "And why was Massoud there, of all people?"  
Frowning, Steve glowered at him, because he could count on one finger what Danny was alluding to. The steep crease on his forehead deepened. Hard, he grabbed Danny by the arm. "Hakim's eyes are pitch black. Massoud's are ice blue. Notice anything about that?"  
"And what if Massoud didn't survive the torture so well and followed in Hakim's footsteps? You said Massoud nursed you back to health and Max said the killer had medical knowledge," Danny probed further. It didn't bother him at all that Steve's ex-boyfriend, who was presumed dead, should be the murderer. He felt a little satisfaction, even if he didn't know why.  
Steve closed his eyes and meanwhile massaged the bridge of his nose. "Massoud was as frightened as I was when I told him Hakim was back," he said.  
"He was just afraid you'd find out his secret," Danny countered soberly.  
Steve stopped and scowled at Danny. "Someone who's caught up in an idea only sees that one side of it and talks his evidence into whatever shape he needs it to be. Massoud had been scared to death, I saw it in his eyes. You can't just play it like that. He was tortured by Hakim just as I was. How could he have done that? Clone himself?"  
The Jersey cop, however, did not let up. "There's an explanation for everything."  
"Then you should take your advice to heart as well, Daniel!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took me so long for updating this but I had a few complications, so I hadn´t had the time for writing on this, also I updated a new story here aswell. But i will write more in this soon:)

**Author's Note:**

> Remember I dont want to Spoiler someone with this fanfictions here. If you haven´t watched Hawai Five o, then make sure you do this first before reading this book here. Otherwise I can´t tell if theres a Spoiler for you or not.  
> Also this is just a Fanfiction and it has nothing to do with the real Life of the characters or the episodes of the series. Only the characters from the series are in here.


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